


Relations of the Public Variety

by newbie93



Series: Drabbles, Ficlets, Prompts, and One-Shots [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Engineering VS Biochem, F/M, FitzSimmons - Freeform, Team Biochem, The FitzSimmons Network
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 09:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6977917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newbie93/pseuds/newbie93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "I'm a famous celebrity and you're my PR Manager AU."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Going to do my very best to make my way through as many of the various scenarios and prompts on Tumblr in honor of the Engineering VS Biochem showdown.
> 
> Lezdoit #TeamBiochem

“ _Honestly_ Simmons, you can’t keep doing this!”

Jemma rolls her eyes at the exasperated words that carry over her car’s speakers and lets out her own irritated huff at the phrase that she’s getting quite sick of hearing.

Considering she’d been hoping that this call would be more _personal_ in nature, it’s a bit disappointing to begin her morning with a lecture. She checks her rearview mirror, sighing at the car that has been tailing her for the past five minutes, and carefully weaves her way through traffic as she uses the same defense she always does whenever she finds herself being reprimanded by her PR manager. 

“I wouldn’t _have_ to keep doing this if the paparazzi could actually grasp the fact that Will Daniels and I haven’t been involved for over six months, 4,722 hours to be exact- I’ve _counted_ Fitz, and I therefore do not have any knowledge or interest in whatever or _whomever_ he’s getting himself into.” 

She can hear the groan come over the speakers and has to fight a smile as she pictures Fitz, pinching the bridge of his nose as he always does when they begin to bicker and trying to find a way to fix whatever silly thing she’s done that, in a week or so, will be long forgotten by the general public anyways. 

“ _Jemma._ ” 

Only Fitz is able to say her name with an equal amount of annoyance and affection, and Jemma wonders when it began to please her so much. She _also_ wonders if her similarly fond/exasperated uttering of _his_ name yields similar feelings on his end. 

“ _Fitz._ ” 

She makes a last-second sharp turn, silently apologizing for intentionally not using her blinker, and glances in her mirror again. The blatantly obvious black SUV is nowhere to be found and Jemma does a triumphant shimmy at being able to lose it so quickly. 

“You need to stop threatening to throw dangerous chemicals on the paparazzi anytime they bring up your hog-faced ex-boyfriend.” 

She doesn’t even bother trying to fight the smile this time. Fitz’s description of Will had always been a sore subject when she’d still been dating the man, due large in part to the fact that she was unaware of the nickname until she’d overheard Fitz and Hunter laughing about it behind her back, but now the label, and the vexation with which Fitz uses it, is something that she finds to be quite fitting for her ex. 

“Would you rather I use threats of the more standard variety?” 

“Ugh, Simmons I don’t…” 

“My classes with May have been going quite well, I could probably threaten to beat them up instead…” 

“…you _really_ need to stop…” 

“Or perhaps I could just warn them that I can get them fired if they ask me one more question about what Will does with his p…” 

“ _Jemma_!” 

“…ersonal trainer. Oh _honestly_ Fitz.” 

She can hear something that sounds suspiciously like a head thudding against a desk and waits patiently for Fitz to get on with whatever logistical plan Coulson had likely asked him to come up with in order to maintain her Hollywood darling image. 

Not that it _needs_ maintaining. Her disinterest in partying, genuine passion for charity work, and two Oscars have evidently made it easy for fans and industry members alike to overlook her recent vocal disgust with the paparazzi. In fact, most have praised her for her newfound, no-nonsense, attitude where the entertainment leeches are concerned and, other than poor Fitz who is one curse word from her away from an ulcer, nobody seems the slightest bit concerned with her _clearly, mostly,_ unlikely-to-actually-be-acted-on threats. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me Jemma.” 

This time there’s no annoyance, only that overwhelming fondness that’s always been there- the fondness that she’d somehow not picked up on until ending things with Will. The first time she heard it, _really_ heard it, she’d thought it might have been a fluke. But months have gone by and she’s come to realize that the blatant adoration in Fitz’s words, and written on his face, has _always_ been present. More importantly, her _own_ affection for him seems to have existed beneath the surface for just as long. 

“Yes well, what a way to go.” 

Fitz’s lack of rebuttal causes Jemma to take a shaky breath, momentarily weighing the pros and cons that come with asking the question she’d wanted to since first seeing Fitz’s caller I.D. appear on her car’s screen. She thinks about what transpired last night, nothing and yet everything, and decides that the possibility of embarrassing herself is well worth the other potential outcome. 

“Fitz…” 

“Hmm?” 

“Is there perhaps another reason you’re calling?” 

Somehow, in Fitz’s answering silence, Jemma is able to glean the exact information she’d hoped to hear. Had this phone call _really_ been about work, Fitz wouldn’t have hesitated to tell her as much. The fact that all she can hear from the other line is the occasional gulp, as though her best friend in the world is working his way up to actually speaking, causes a beaming smile to make its way across Jemma’s face. Her heart seems to quicken with the nervous excitement and, for once, she is entirely willing to wait for Fitz to find his own words. 

“I um… I had a nice time last night.” 

The smile grows and Jemma finds herself having to consciously prevent a squeal from escaping, instead tampering down her emotions so that she can respond as casually as possible. 

“Did you?” 

She hopes he can hear the teasing lilt in her voice, that he can pick up on the fact that she isn’t unaffected by the change in topic, and understands that this _is_ a conversation she wishes for him to continue.

“Yeah I did… and I know that you’re supposed to wait some ridiculous amount of time before admitting that but…”

 He goes silent for a beat and Jemma can perfectly visualize what he likely looks like in this moment, free hand no doubt rubbing against his neck and eyes screwed shut as he tries to find the words and the courage to continue.

 “But…?”

 “Well I was quite hoping you might… that is I was thinking, I know last night wasn’t technically a date or anything but it felt… _I_ felt that is… perhaps it was just me but I thought… well, I was wondering if you might… If _we_ might…”

 A small part of Jemma wants to let him continue with his adorable rambling, wants to hear him ask the question that she’s been consciously thinking about for months and likely _subconsciously_ dreaming about for _years_ , but the much larger part of her that’s tired of wasting time decides to take the reins.

 “Fitz?”

 “Yeah?” 

“How would you like to become your own worst nightmare and have dinner with me tonight, somewhere nice?” 

Silence envelopes them again, the most it has in all the time she’s known him, and Jemma waits with a pleased smile as Fitz processes her words. The fluttering in her stomach can be attributed to excitement rather than nerves, fully confident that the answer will be _yes_ considering he himself had been working himself up to ask the same question, and she mentally begins sorting through her favorite restaurants and outfits in preparation.

She narrows it down to two options for each by the time she hears Fitz clear his throat, and straightens up in her seat, holding her breath as she prepares for his response. 

“My own worst nightmare?” 

Slumping back down again, Jemma rolls her eyes at Fitz’s confusion and wonders how someone so alarmingly intelligent could focus on _that_ portion of the question when the _rest_ of it involved her asking him on a _date._ Whatever fondness and admittedly _more than friend_ affections she has for Fitz can’t ever _quite_ prevent her baseline desire to make him blush so, rather than carefully explaining the chaos that tends to hit her team whenever she so much as _smiles_ at someone of the opposite sex, Jemma decides that bluntness is the only way to make her intentions towards Fitz clear. 

“Yes well, I assume a group of photographers snapping pictures of you leaving my home tomorrow morning in the same clothes you wore _today_ will be quite a lot to deal with for my PR manager. In fact, it’ll likely be the death of him.”

She laughs at the choking sound that comes over the speakers, biting her lip in anticipation and grinning like a mad woman when, after nearly a minute of recovery time, she finally hears a response.

“Probably… but what a way to go.”


	2. What a Pitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I suppose this shall turn into various out-of-order one shots. This one takes us back to the beginning.

“They want to pair me with  _ Fitz? Leo Fitz? _ __ What, did everyone else perish in one of the infamous California wildfires I keep hearing about? Perhaps I need to rethink relocating here… Should we send some condolence baskets to their families? _ ” _

“ _ Jemma _ …”

“No, I’m serious Bobbi! We should really look into an Edible Arrangements or at the very least a tasteful flower bundle. Something awful must have happened because the only logical explanation for S.H.I.E.L.D. settling on  _ Fitz  _ as my PR manager is that all of the other options are  _ dead _ .”

Falling to the couch, Jemma crosses her arms with a huff and does her best to maintain her glower despite the pointed look being sent in her direction.

“That’s dramatic, even for an actress and  _ especially  _ for you.”

Pinching her nose as she tries once again to process the utter lunacy of the, “important news,” her agent had felt the need to deliver in person, Jemma lets out a snort at the comment. Gesticulating her arms in what she thinks is a decent physical representation of the confusion, astoundment, and irritation that she’s feeling, Jemma leans forward and widens her eyes for emphasis.

“ _ Fitz,  _ Bobbi. Fitz who spent the  _ entire  _ trial week not speaking a word to me… unless we’re including derisive snorts and eyerolls as speaking, in which case he certainly made his voice heard.”

The reminder of Fitz’s standoffishness, and the sting of hurt that admittedly lanced through her each time he ignored her attempts at conversation, only makes Jemma that much more certain that a mistake has been made. She’d only lasted two days before Fitz had broken her, causing her to give up any attempt at friendliness and finish the week with an utter grump of a shadow who barely looked up from his phone during their time together. 

When she went to business meetings, he’d be tapping away on his mobile. When she made an appearance at a luncheon celebrating women in the industry, he’d be fiddling with a tablet. When she snuck into a lecture at the local university, he’d boredly clack at his keyboard until she’d snapped at him to  _ pay attention _ .

By the end of the week he’d spoken a whopping forty-three words in her  _ vicinity _ , most of which had been directed at Bobbi or Daisy, all the while making it perfectly clear that he had no interest in her life or how to best to live it in the public eye. 

The entire thing had been a complete and utter catastrophe as far as Jemma was concerned, saying a lot considering the debacle that was Bakshi’s trial period the week prior, which makes it that much more surprising to learn that the curly-haired weasel had somehow managed to convince S.H.I.E.L.D. Management Co. that the two of them had gotten on enough for him to actually be a long-term  _ asset  _ to her.

Pulled from her musings by Bobbi’s sigh, Jemma glances up and watches as her agent seems to grow more animated by the second.

“You’re not being fair, Jemma. Apparently he pitched some stuff that blew Coulson and the other partners away. Phil seemed really excited about him over the phone.”

Glowering further at the thought of whatever Fitz said or did to convince the higher-ups to actually consider him as someone who could take her on as a client, Jemma finds herself shaking her head at the latter half of her friend’s statement. “That means almost nothing considering Coulson likes  _ everyone,  _ Bobbi. I saw him have a civil conversation with John Garrett once!”

_ Checkmate. _

Wrinkling her nose in acknowledgement, Bobbi is only silent for a second before she’s waving her hand dismissively and barreling forward. “Okay, that’s fair,  _ however _ … Coulson may  _ like  _ most people but he doesn’t throw around the word  _ genius _ all that often and I heard it at  _ least _ five times when he was talking about some of the ideas Fitz presented the team with.”

Rolling her eyes, Jemma snags her forgotten wine glass from the coffee table before using Bobbi’s own move against her and flicking a wrist in dismissal.

“Oh please. How hard is it to suggest that I get photographed doing charity and avoid the cameras at all costs if I find myself a bit debauched? Fitz isn’t a genius, he just has _common sense._ And even _that_ is quite frankly debateable… not sure robots _have_ common sense.”

“Oh my god.”

Jemma feels her lips tick upwards at the exasperation laced in Bobbi’s words and feels the  _ teeniest _ bit of victory at the ease with which she’s worn her agent down.

“Look, if you’re really still against it after you hear what his suggestions are… fine, I’ll have Coulson send over their top ten candidates so you can decide for yourself. Just… just don’t dismiss Fitz before you see what he actually has to offer, okay? I think he might surprise you.”

Letting out a noncommittal hum, Jemma stares pensively at her wine as she considers Bobbi before looking up in curiosity. “Why are you pushing this so hard?”

“Because  _ you  _ might not have exchanged much dialogue with him but  _ I  _ did and I liked him.”

“You  _ liked  _ him?!”

_ This  _ is surprising to her. Bobbi, though now a dear friend and generally wonderful human, isn’t exactly known for being a people person and has never been shy about making it clear when someone isn’t to her taste. The fact that Fitz first  _ spoke  _ to her and  _ then _ somehow managed to win her over as easily as he did his bosses, isn’t something that Jemma had been prepared for.

“Yes as a matter of fact, I did. Daisy did too FYI. He’s obviously smart, pretty funny once you actually get him talking and, honestly Jemma, I think he’ll be good for you.”

Straightening on the couch and narrowing her eyes, with alarm bells ringing in her head, Jemma focuses her gaze on Bobbi as her suspicions grow. Her agent seems to immediately pick up on the glower because in the next instant Bobbi is pushing herself from the chair with a huff, maneuvering her way around the coffee table, and plopping down beside Jemma with a placating look.

“Good for your  _ team _ I mean. Listen Jem, there’s already Oscar buzz for  _ Hope on the Edge of Nowhere  _ and we all know that  _ The Singularity  _ is going to kill it at the box office… you’re about to be the biggest name in the industry! Daisy is an exceptional manager and I’m handling the flood of scripts and offers like a legend if I do say so myself, but we can’t do it  _ all  _ and... I think that Fitz could be the perfect person to alleviate some of the PR stuff that's outside of my and Daisy’s specialties _.” _

She  _ knows  _ that she’s being guilt-tripped (along with interrogating it’s one of Bobbi’s specialties) but Jemma still hasn’t figured out how to resist her agent and feels her resilience slipping each passing second. Releasing a sigh, she begrudgingly nods her head in acquiescence and takes another sip of wine before saying, “ _ Fine.  _ Have Coulson send a  _ selection  _ and I’ll reserve judgment on Fitz until I hear how he intends to manage myself and my image.”

Clinking her glass against the one still firmly grasped in Jemma’s hand, Bobbi gives her a warm smile that seems just a  _ touch  _ too smug as she replies, “That’s all I’m asking.”

 

-O-

 

Three days later, Daisy, Bobbi, and Jemma are seated at the latter’s kitchen island with a stack of innocuous folders spread between them and an even larger array of take-out and booze.

Despite beginning the process with eagerness and determination at finding a new person to bring into the bizarre world that has become her career and life, as Bobbi reads the pitches of each new candidate Jemma finds her excitement waning.

“...attend at least one nightclub opening a month and be photographed with a male costar in the weeks leading up to any film premiere.”

Bobbi drops Raina’s pitch onto the pile of those already read and raises her brows as she waits for opinions to be vocalized. It’s silent for a few long moments, Daisy pretending to gag as Bobbi looks at the pitch with a grimace, before Jemma feels the need to break it.

“Oh… kaaaay. That’s, I mean it’s definitely… I’ll definitely get some press. And it would certainly be easy enough to attend a nightclub opening or two.”

She gives what she thinks is a convincing smile that promptly falls when Daisy drops her head in her hands and groans, “Can we _please_ quit dragging this out and just skip to Fitz’s? Even _you’re_ not a good enough actress to actually make that seem like a decent pitch.”

Feeling oddly defensive on Raina’s behalf, Jemma glances between her friends and attempts to prolong the inevitable. “It wasn’t  _ that… _ ”

A loud squawk interrupts her before she can finish speaking and Daisy shoots her an incredulous look. “Simmons! It was  _ terrible. _ Bobbi, help me out here.”

Eyes moving from manager to agent, Jemma waits patiently as she tries to read the expression on Bobbi’s face as she begins to speak. 

“It wasn’t a bad pitch…” 

Grinning in victory as she turns to Daisy, Jemma feels the smile fall as Bobbi continues with, “...but it was definitely a bad pitch for  _ you _ .”

Letting out a huff, Jemma falls back against the chair and crosses her arms as her eyes flicker between Daisy and Bobbi. They’re wearing twin looks of amusement that make her want to up and leave just to avoid what she knows is coming. There are still three folders that they have yet to read through but Daisy is slowly pushing  _ one  _ of them across the table towards Bobbi, smile growing with each millimeter.

Though the other woman makes no move to pick it up, she  _ is  _ giving Jemma an expectant look that pulls another irritated groan from her. Smacking Daisy’s hand out of the way and causing her to laugh, Jemma snatches what is  _ obviously  _ Fitz’s pitch from the table and drops it back down in front of Bobbi.

_ “Fine.  _ Let’s get this over with.”

Ignoring the mirrored grins and excited whoops of her team, Jemma falls back against the chair and makes certain that her glower is in place as she settles in to hear just what it is that seems to have won everyone other than her over.

Making a show of pulling the typed plan from the folder and clearing her throat, Bobbi quickly glances between them before launching into a reading that would make any wannabe slam-poet envious.

“Jemma Simmons is boring in terms of Hollywood’s standards…”

Bristling at both the words and the snort of laughter that comes from Daisy, Jemma straightens in her seat and glares at Bobbi. After shooting her a quick look that screams  _ just listen, _ Bobbi returns her gaze to the paper in her hands and resumes.

“She’d rather queue up Netflix than attend a premiere, sneak into a university than out of a nightclub, and network with people she  _ wants  _ to work with rather than those she  _ should  _ want to work with.”

Glancing over at Daisy, Jemma is unsurprised to see that her manager is grinning at the words that she herself has spoken ad nauseam over their time together. Even more irksome than the truthfulness behind them is the fact that Fitz managed to get a  _ somewhat  _ accurate read on her in a week.

Petulantly picking at the peeling label on her empty beer bottle, Jemma ducks her head to avoid the knowing looks that her friends are now giving her. She swears that the slight cough Bobbi releases is meant to cover a laugh and studiously ignores her in favor of listening to the pitch.

“Simmons is relatable. That should be our focus. She’s a funny, intelligent, and  _ capable  _ woman whose innate friendliness and genuine goodness makes her someone that people outside of the Hollywood bubble want to spend time with.”

Feeling her eyes widen in surprise, Jemma raises her head in intrigue as Bobbi continues. 

“The best angle to approach her from a PR standpoint is to simply not have an angle at all. Emphasize who she is and what she does when she’s too modest to do it herself.”

Snatching the paper from Bobbi’s hands, Jemma lets her eyes rove over the words that  _ Fitz  _ had written and feels her brows raise with each comment and suggestion.

 

  * __Hold a Women in STEM screening of 0-8-4.__


  * _Become an ambassador for Girls Who Code (or other organization that JS is similarly passionate about)_


  * _Increase (get) social media presence- interact with people rather than Hollywood (audience outreach)_


  * _Don’t shy away from social/political outreach (this might be the only time damage control will be necessary, JS doesn’t shy away from speaking her mind which should be encouraged but watched)_


  * _Actually take classes/pursue degree?_


  * _Prioritize editorials over tabloids- let Jemma speak for herself, natural intelligence and charm will do more than a fancy dress at a party_



There’s bullet point after bullet point and by the time she reaches the end of the  _ ten page  _ pitch, packed with detailed ideas and suggestions that she herself never would have thought of, Jemma’s mouth is open in shock.

It’s hard to believe that someone who had barely acknowledged her had managed to pitch ideas that are so…  _ her…  _ and Jemma can’t figure out how  _ Fitz  _ is the person behind this. While she still has her reservations, the words on the paper in front of her suddenly make Jemma reflect back on their trial period through a new set of lenses as she realizes that what she  _ thought  _ had been Fitz boredly ignoring her in favor of playing Candy Crush on his various devices  _ may  _ have actually been him doing his job.

Evidently he had been  _ taking notes,  _ likely jotting down the ideas that he’s now officially put forth, and Jemma feels the  _ slightest  _ bit of guilt for dismissing him so quickly. While she’s certain that  _ they  _ will never get along, as was made perfectly clear by his desire to interact with her as little as possible, she’s slightly less convinced that Fitz is a lazy idiot.

Not wanting to look up, Jemma does her best to make it less obvious to Daisy and Bobbi that she agrees with Coulson’s (and  _ their)  _ belief that Fitz’s pitch was the most superior of the bunch. Releasing a low hum, she keep her eyes on the pages in front of her and internally scrambles to find  _ something  _ to critique.

“Well, there were certainly some decent points made but I’m not sure that…”

“Cut the crap Simmons.”

Eyes snapping up to where Daisy is now staring at her with an arched brow and winning smile, Jemma knows instantly that there’s no use in even  _ attempting  _ to continue. Gaze flitting between her team, friendly smugness radiating off of them as they both bite their lips and await the answer they already know is coming, Jemma feels her resolve officially break.  Glancing back down at the folder in front of her, the  _ L. Fitz  _ scribbled sloppily atop it, Jemma releases a long sigh of defeat that pulls a triumphant, “ _ Yes,”  _ from Daisy and a pleased hum from Bobbi.

She pushes the folder back in their direction, crossing her arms and doing her utmost to maintain  _ some  _ semblance of dignity as she mutters, “ _ Fine.  _ We can give Fitz a shot, but I want you to know that I will  _ absolutely  _ be saying I told you so when this partnership ends before he even officially makes it onto the payroll.”


	3. Late Night, Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After months of blatant and subtle hints, Fitz and Jemma finally shift their relationship.  
> (Immediately precedes chapter 1)

It’s not until she’s watching Fitz clamber into his car with an awkward wave and adorable blush, visible even from her doorstep, that Jemma realizes they’d just been on a  _ date. _

She could  _ probably _ reason that replacing their typical dinner beer with an eight-hundred bottle of Chardonnay gifted to her by a movie producer was simply done because the wine paired better with their meal. She  _ might  _ even be able to convince someone that, when she’d grown chilly curled up on the couch, she’d chosen to press herself against Fitz and snuggle beneath his blanket because the spare was too far away to warrant getting up. And if anyone were to question the way she’d all but purred in his lap as he’d run his fingers through her hair halfway through the GBBO technicals, she could honestly say that such a scenario wasn’t out of the ordinary for them.

In actuality, the evening had been fairly normal where she and Fitz were concerned;  _ standard  _ even, for two people so close that their friends no longer refer to them individually.

They’ve used two spoons to split a pint of ice cream more times than she can count, played Roshambo to determine who chooses the evening film since their first heated debate over the best Doctor, and have been able to easily chat for hours for  _ nearly _ as long as they've known each-other.

In fact, the only thing  _ not  _ normal about the evening was that it had ended with Fitz pressing a sweet kiss against her lips on his way out the door.

Though, equally out-of-the ordinary was the fact that said kiss was one Jemma had immediately reciprocated, pressing her palms against Fitz’s chest and earnestly chasing his mouth when he’d pulled away with rosy-red cheeks and a bashful smile.

Rubbing at his neck while scuffing his feet against the ground in the same nervous gesture she’d memorized years ago, Fitz had murmured a soft goodbye, quickly leaned forward to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek, and stumbled his way to his car with nearly half-a-dozen backwards glances.

Now, watching him fumble with his keys through the barely tinted windows of his car, Jemma feels a beaming grin make its way across her face as she fully processes this change of events. Letting out a short laugh, she bites her lip when Fitz glances up, eyes immediately softening when they lock on her own, and gives another small wave before pulling out of the drive.

Watching his tail lights grow smaller until the car disappears around a bend, Jemma is overcome by a sudden need to dance as she sifts through the evening once more and notes each and every moment that confirms, though neither planned nor discussed, she and Fitz had just finished their first date.

Running through the list once again while internally admitting that  _ perhaps _ some of her decisions were a bit more calculated than she might admit to Daisy and Bobbi, Jemma is that much more convinced that she and Fitz had  _ finally  _ leaped over the line they'd been straddling for far longer than she'd even realized. 

She claps a hand over her mouth at the squeal that escapes when she replays their kiss, glancing around in embarrassment before remembering that  _ nobody  _ can see or hear her, and feels her heart begin to hammer in her chest as she's filled with an unquantifiable amount of happiness. It’s been quite some time since she’s felt this way, blushing and giddy without a care in the world, and Jemma finds herself simultaneously surprised and most decidedly  _ not  _ that it's Fitz who has left her in such a state.

Months ago, not long after her highly publicized split with Will, Jemma had noticed for the first time that Fitz seemed to look at her differently than he did anyone else. 

While initially dismissing the blatant tenderness in his expression as being related to his stubborn need to serve as her post-breakup white knight, when he  _ continued _ to look at her in such a way, she'd begun to wonder if perhaps something had shifted for him. After that, she'd made it her mission to carefully study him, cataloguing his behavior during their interactions and trying to decipher it as best she could to figure him out.

It hadn't taken her long to realize that absolutely  _ nothing  _ had changed where Fitz was concerned because he  _ always _ looked at her like that _. _

The  _ only _ thing that had changed was the fact that she’d suddenly begun to  _ notice _ .

It had of course been a shocking conclusion until she'd begun to reflect back on their years together with dawning realization. 

She’d never thought twice about the naked fondness on his face, or the way his eyes seemed to light up whenever they landed on her, or even the small moments where he’d murmur soft words of comfort and support into her ear when she’d begun to doubt herself and her chosen profession. While she’d unconsciously chalked all that up to Fitz simply being an inherently decent human being, upon closer inspection Jemma realized that he only ever behaved in such a way with  _ her. _

His resting face was typically a scowl, he rolled his eyes at people more often than anyone else she knew, and Jemma had once watched him panickedly give Bobbi the single most awkward pat on the back when she’d burst into tears over a recent row with Hunter.

He certainly  _ was  _ a good person, but he was  _ especially  _ good to her and it had taken eight years for Jemma to figure it out.

While her conclusion seemed sound after weeks of studying her best friend, a small part of Jemma feared that she might be seeing something that didn’t exist simply because she  _ wanted to.  _ She of course patently refused to explore  _ why  _ she might want Fitz to hold her in a different regard than anyone else, internally deciding that any examination of her own feelings should be tackled only  _ after  _ confirming how  _ he _ might feel about  _ her. _

She’d tentatively broached the subject during a weekly girls’ night with Bobbi and Daisy, immediately regretting it when the two women had instantly burst into laughter and launched into a detailed description of her combined idiocy and obliviousness. Once their tears had dried, and Daisy wisely refilled her glass of wine once realizing  _ she  _ wasn’t laughing along, the two had only  _ somewhat  _ patronizingly said, “Of  _ course _ Fitz has feelings for you, Jemma,” and, “That first PR pitch was basically a love confession.”

With her friends further verifying her suspicions, Jemma had spent an inordinate amount of time sussing out her own feelings through some greatly needed self-reflection. 

She’d scrolled through her text messages, jaw dropping at the utter _flirtiness_ weaved within some of their exchanges and heart all but melting at the utter sweetness of the others. Flipping through nearly a decade of photos provided the stunning, physical, evidence that she was just as guilty of looking at Fitz with smiles reserved only for him. Memories of the discomfort she’d always felt when he’d introduced her to past girlfriends made it clear that what she’d _actually_ been was jealous. And thinking of their countless conversations, so infused with honesty and admissions she’d never shared with anyone else, made it clear that there is a reason Fitz is the first and last person she wishes to speak to on any given day.

On and on it went as the pieces finally began to slot into place until, only a week after her talk with Daisy and Bobbi (and a day after a rather explicit dream with Fitz in the starring role), Jemma concluded that her unwavering affection for Fitz was indicative of  _ much  _ deeper feelings of the non-platonic variety.

The weeks since  _ that  _ realization had been spent with her carefully trying not to reveal too much too soon while simultaneously doing her utmost to make it clear that the tides had changed. It had been a bit more daunting than she’d anticipated, the worry over mucking things up increasing her nerves ten-fold and stripping away her usual self-confidence. Her base instinct to over-think led to a week of awkward blinking, stuttered sentences, and enough spontaneous laughing to make Fitz worriedly question whether or not she was ill.

It had taken another evening with the girls, filled with booze and pep-talks, for Jemma to realize that the best way to approach Fitz was the way she always had. There was no use forcing things, particularly when factoring in his natural aversion to change, so she’d decided then and there to behave as she typically would and simply let things happen naturally.

Not  _ too  _ naturally of course. She’d be a fool to sit back and do  _ nothing  _ considering how glacially their relationship had progressed over the years, with much of the blame resting on her own shoulders. But, rather than the overt flirting recommended in the glamour mags or the naked yoga suggested by Daisy, Jemma simply elevated her normal behavior.

She made sure their hugs lasted a few seconds longer, found any excuse she could to ruffle his hair, made sure to emphasize that  _ no,  _ she wasn’t the least bit hurt by the tabloid photos of Will gallivanting around the Hills with his svelte personal trainer, and actually let him to choose dinner once or twice during their near nightly meals together. Biding her time, she’d managed to maintain some semblance of normalcy (a real feat considering her newfound desire to kiss Fitz senseless) until, slowly but surely, Fitz began to match her slight tweaks, making subtle adjustments of his own that she likely wouldn’t have noticed were she not actively looking for them.

A shoulder squeeze here, opening the door there, holding her gaze rather than looking away with a blush anytime she’d catch him staring.   Bit by bit they’d raised the ante until Fitz had cooked her dinner, spoon feeding her pasta sauce to taste-test as she hurried to open the most expensive bottle of wine she’d been able to find.

Biting her lip to try and contain her smile, Jemma pushes her way back inside her house and promptly falls back against the door in a way she will later deny could be classified as swooning.

Their shared blanket is still where she had pushed it to the floor on her way to escort Fitz out, the entire house is still filled with the scent of marinara, and the buzz that she’s currently feeling can most  _ definitely  _ be attributed to more than just the empty bottle sitting on her kitchen counter.

Releasing her lip, she mentally admits that she couldn’t contain her grin if her life depended on it.

After taking another moment to revel in the feeling of elation now flooding through her system, Jemma pushes herself further into her home and begins the process of cleaning up, one word playing like a mantra in her mind as she wonders what the next day will bring.

_ Finally. _


End file.
